iG.STUDiO: Ilya I. Gerasimenko

Despite all my affection to that show, I must admit that the beginning of season III had given me some doubts. The more I think about the initially multi-dimensional and yet still heavily branching story line (or lines, actually), the more I fear that the creators of the show will not be able to eventually control it to the degree where it would still remain plausible. It's the question of energy vs. entropy with the whole structure being so complex, that it can collapse into something as cheesy as "...and the whole thing is actually a hallucination, which was going on in their minds during the last 3.5 seconds of the plane crush..." or the eversafe "...just a virtual reality experiment...". Well, that would really suck, wouldn't it? Every sci-fi story must have an "allowance", that's the rules of the genre. No matter what it is, time travel, space exploration, rebel robots or evil aliens, it should be there, or there is no story to be told. ...

That is from someone who gets picked out from the continuous flow of gently speeding traffic for going 2.25 miles over the speed limit - some of us are clearly marked*. Since I moved to NYC, however, my speciality became parking tickets. I get them everywhere. This is my way of supporting the city (seriously, why running the red light, which is a potentially life-threatening violation is priced $50, and parking with your spare tire hanging 1.5 inches over the sloppily painted crooked white line** - more than twice more, $115? I'd tell you why***, but this blog is a part of my professional image, or at least I hope it doesn't destroy it too much...) - as "premium" as the city is, according to our mayor. Another topic - warranties. How in a world they manage to build something which breaks one to three days after it's factory warranty expires? And how do they know that you are going to buy an extended one, and in that case the damn thing breaks not in 91 days, but ...

Apparently, it can drive you insane, especially if you haven't dealt with it before. They use a number of very simple, but effective methods: They only deliver, when you are not there, e.g. between 9 AM and 5 PM, and leave a note you can't read with a reference number. Since you weren't there, they will deliver again the very next day, making sure they attempt the delivery at the exact same time (because they already know, you wouldn't be there). They will leave a note with a different reference number. They will  try again (same time) next day, and then leave another note with another reference number, marked "final attempt". You will call the number on the note to figure out what's going on. Eventually you will get a live person, who will be very helpful and reschedule the delivery for the time you can be there (after 6 PM). They will deliver again next day around noon, and leave a note with a new reference number. You will call. After getting a l...

... or did I finally fixed this buggy blogger template (with the help of www.positioniseverything.net  )? Hasn't been five years... It still refuses to validate, but at least it's not running in quirks mode anymore, and renders in IE the same way it does in Firefox. Fills my heart with joy. Happy birthday to me, too.

... and we are still unpacked. There is something wrong with our lives. And we have way too many books.

This time to Queens, chasing the dream of leaving in a place where there is more grass and less cockroaches. So far seems to be working, even the part where Dar is moving in with us to make it easier for us to help her when the baby arrives. I am going to be a grandfather. That's odd.

I will get to the point eventually. I usually do. Figuring out what is that point, however, is a task by itself. May be, I just need to vent, may be I am just annoyed by the fact that there is a blog on this site, which was abandoned for a while, or may be there is more to the four little metal things residing in my coronary artery than just preventing it from collapsing. I don't remember all the correct stages, but there is one thing I am fairly sure about: this is as far away from acceptance, as it can be. And, finally, I understood why I am so angry with my quitting smoking. First of all, that wasn't my idea. As a result, I feel no real satisfaction, when I think about all these days I hadn't had a cigarette (since 01/30/06 to be exact). I just fill frustrated. Secondly, every time I feel like burning one, I don't. This constantly reminds me that I am old, sick, not well, have "a condition", and so on. It is very annoying. Really. So, what was the point? S...

So, we've moved. Many things are different, starting from street parking, and all the way up the annoyance scale to cockroaches and ever-present puddle in the elevator. It's surprising, how many people are afraid of dogs in our neighborhood. It's like it isn't New York (and it isn't, it's Brooklyn). But what is New York? Or, to be precise, what were my expectations of becoming a New Yorker? Quite frankly, I didn't have any well-formed ones, and as a result, I'm not really disappointed. In theory, yes, it's a city of opportunities, fortune, fame and all the good stuff. Money, for instance. For some people, that is. Still a good thing. In practice, however, it's just a relatively big city, where many people live, mostly because they were born here, and don't know any other places, except this one. Some, and many, too, do move in from other places, though, in search of a bright future. This is why service sucks in so many places around here, in ...

I haven't written anything for so many months, that it's almost impossible to select a starting point for this entry, and unless you are bloggin reluctantly every second you can, an entry needs one. I could start, perhaps, at the time of our move to New York, that would be a good one: 2005, middle of June; my contract with Goodyear is over, there is nothing more to expect from Cleveland, we need to do something, and that something, according to Evelyna, is nothing less than just moving to New York. The logic was impeccable: it doesn't matter, where not to have a job, but there we will be together. To those, who tried to rent an apartment in any of the boroughs, good luck. To those, who tried to rent an apartment without having a job, my condolences. To those, who succeeded, hats off. I had one week, before my "current" pay stub would start to look suspicious at least. That explains (sort of), why we ended up in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, and even that was not ea...